All my life

Aged 4

He remembers every detail of that day.

He was sitting at the back of the classroom, blonde head bowed, small hands shaking, when Sherlock walked in.

Mycroft had been an awful bother, as usual, demanding he get up early, forcing shreddies down his throat, bundling him into the car before he'd even tied his scarf or done up his laces. Mummy hadn't even said goodbye to him. He'd gone up to her room but Siger had been outside, forbidding anyone to enter. Sherlock had heard a strange gulping sound coming from inside but he hadn't said anything, in case Daddy was home, because Daddy didn't like anyone seeing Mummy when she had one of her 'turns'.

Daddy was never home anyway, mused Sherlock. He was an important businessman, his work taking him all around the country. Sherlock remembered when Daddy had sat him on his knee, one of the rare occasions he was home, after Sherlock had found the strange messages on his mobile. It was just a game, said Daddy. Just a game with one of his clients.

Mycroft and Mummy didn't talk about Daddy, ever. Siger was the only one who talked to Sherlock since Mycroft had started school. Siger had been their butler since Sherlock was born and sometimes he wished that Siger was his Daddy, instead. Siger was fun.

Mycroft was fun as well, Sherlock supposed. He played deductions amazingly and he sometimes even played pirates with him, but only if he was in a very good mood. Or Mummy was upset. Sherlock supposed it wasn't really Mycroft's fault, he was a whole seven years older than him, but it got awfully boring when Mycroft wasn't there. Not that Sherlock wanted a friend. He liked alone.

Alone protected him.

Sherlock never said that out loud because Mycroft would laugh at him and say he was babyish.

But today, Sherlock was starting school.

Mycroft said it was boring and there was no point going and he already knew everything he would ever need in life, but Sherlock just wanted to escape the dull monotony of Gyfrinach. That was what his house was called. Sherlock didn't know quite what it meant, he only knew Spanish and Russian (as well as English) but he had decided he would learn Welsh, as well. Maybe after he had finished his latest experiment.

Mycroft was sitting primly, perfectly upright, reddish hair parted directly down the middle, eyes cold and calculating. He was dressed in his long trousers and jacket and he had sighed at Sherlock when he got in the car. 'Shouldn't you look a little neater, brother mine? It is, after all, your first day of school.'

Sherlock had scowled at his brother and ignored him completely. Mummy always said that he was more pleasing to the eye, anyway. Sherlock had thick, black, curly hair and big blue eyes, a long, slender body and magnificent cheekbones. Although both he and Mycroft were tall for their ages, otherwise they looked completely different. Mycroft looked like Mummy. Sherlock looked like Daddy.

Their driver, Houghton, pulled up outside the little primary school and quickly got out to open their doors. Mycroft came out snootily, head held high and ignored Houghton completely. Sherlock bounced out excitedly, grabbing his rucksack, and smiling at the driver. 'Thank you!'

Houghton smiled. 'Have a good first day, Master Sherlock.'

Sherlock cringed at the words; he hated their staff calling him 'Master', but Daddy insisted.

A couple of older boys standing near the car laughed as Sherlock came near them. 'Ooh, look, its little Master. Do we need to bow down to you?'

Sherlock frowned. What were these boys doing? He hadn't had much experience with, ah, other children. None at all, to be honest. He hadn't seen another child since his third birthday, when his cousin Rufus visited. Sherlock had spent most of the day hiding in his room. He hated his extended family, entirely and completely.